


remember me as a time of day

by skyclectic



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Multiple Lifetimes, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-22 07:18:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19662490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyclectic/pseuds/skyclectic
Summary: for some reason, jeongyeon’s heart is beating a little too fast. or maybe it’s the world that has slowed down. there’s something familiar about the way sana is looking at her; with a small smile unfurling on her face like petals of a flower slowly coming into bloom.





	remember me as a time of day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jeongsa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeongsa/gifts).



> a very happy belated birthday lucy!!! i'm sorry this took forever but i hope you enjoy it still. <3 
> 
> (title taken from the song of the same name, by explosions in the sky)

someday we will learn to  
reconstruct time  
then in the universe   
of universes find just one  
in which we have yet to come undone  
_\--someday we will learn to, lin yanxiang_

**hanseong. 1636**. 

the whispering of the leaves is a hushed symphony. soundless, yet carrying a hint of melancholy that echoes too loudly. sana’s heart grows heavy along with it; waterlogged and gradually sinking. she takes in a deep breath, and holds it in for as long as she can before exhaling slowly. there is still time before the sun sets. before her world turns into an endless night empty of new tomorrows. 

everything around her is still. a moment immortalised in an ink painting sana would trade a million times over if it means she can hold on to her love a while longer.

she takes another deep breath and focuses on the lake instead. on the crystalline surface and how rays of sunlight catch and glimmer off every ripple.

“you are early today,” a quiet voice sounds from somewhere behind her.

sana’s heartbeat trips over itself. she turns around and is greeted with that familiar lopsided smile. it’s a little brittle today, but it holds steady. and sana feels her heart settle too. just like it always has for many moons now. ever since the very first time they met; somewhere just beyond the northern gate of the palace.

“and _you_ have kept me waiting,” sana replies around a small smile, keeping her voice light, almost teasing.

jeongyeon’s smile widens just a fraction. but in the next moment, it slips right off her face. sana's heart sinks; a slow drowning in tandem with the aching silence between them. a silence weighed down with words they can only leave unspoken. with hopes they can only leave shattered, not unbroken. 

there is anguish written all over jeongyeon’s face. sana swallows past the lump in her throat and steps closer. she rests her palm on jeongyeon’s chest, right over where her heart is. jeongyeon’s breath hitches but she says nothing; just brings her own hand up to cover sana’s. 

they stay like that for what feels like an eternity. desperately holding on to _this_ , the last of all their shared memories. 

sana tries to memorise the warmth of jeongyeon’s hand over hers. tries to memorise every single one of jeongyeon’s heartbeats. loses herself in the way they ebb and flow. she tries not to think of the war; of jeongyeon and an unforgiving sword through her ribs. tries not to think of this beautiful heart coming to a standstill.

in another life, jeongyeon would not be born a commoner; the only child of a widowed mother. would not have to fight in a war neither of them care about. in another life, sana would not be born a prime minister’s daughter. then maybe, they could have run away together. taking jeongyeon’s mother with them to the East; into days with transient sunsets. into a whole lifetime.

but this is not that life.

in this life, a cruel parting is the fate written for them.

“i love you. very much,” jeongyeon finally breaks the silence. just as the last embers of sunlight fades around them, giving way to darkness. and the end. “i will keep you in my thoughts. always.”

jeongyeon doesn’t promise to return soon, doesn’t promise to stay alive. because war breaks promises and it will only hurt more. instead, she presses her lips against sana’s forehead, feather-light. then tilts sana’s chin up for a kiss that tastes like the sea.

“i love you very much too,” sana whispers, before pressing her handkerchief into jeongyeon’s hand. the one she stitched some time ago in the shade of a tree at this very lake. with jeongyeon’s head cradled in her lap, fast asleep.

when the king’s decree was made known, sana had stitched her family crest on a corner of the cloth. she watches as jeongyeon’s thumb ghosts over the embroidered crane. feels her heart cave in.

“to remember me by,” sana tells her softly, when jeongyeon lifts a watery gaze. “and for good fortune.” 

there’s an aching beat and then jeongyeon tips her forehead against sana’s own. “as if i could ever forget you.”

(every day since, and long after the war ends, sana watches the sunrise and feels none of its warmth. 

she cannot bear it; all these suns that rise without bringing jeongyeon home to her.)

**kyoto. 1890.**

sana hurries along on the cobbled streets, keeping her head down to avoid wandering eyes. it is unbecoming for her to be out on the streets alone, especially so close to sundown. even more unbecoming, on the eve of the day she is promised to a wealthy businessman from gion. 

she turns the corner and slips into the slightly open door of the bakery. finds jeongyeon where she always is; kneading dough near the open windows. 

“you should not be here,” jeongyeon says, abandoning the dough.

sana takes in the way the last rays of sun fall over jeongyeon’s face. how warm light illuminates her cheekbones and turns them a luminous shade of gold. jeongyeon is a painting; the most beautiful masterpiece sana has ever seen. 

“sana,” jeongyeon exhales. 

there is a faint plea folded into the way jeongyeon says her name. sana feels it; the way her heart begins to unravel along spiderweb cracks.

“i will never forgive myself if i leave for gion without seeing you,” sana admits, tremulously. a single tear rolls down her cheek before she can blink it away.

“if you cry, they will ask questions,” jeongyeon’s voice is steady. an anchor for sana to hold on to. “so, no tears."

jeongyeon offers sana a soft smile; one that carries too much fondness around its edges. she chuckles when sana sniffles. a tinkle of joy that sana wishes she can keep. when her heart is adrift with longing, she will find safe harbour in the melody of jeongyeon’s laughter. 

“i saved your favourite for you,” jeongyeon says. fingers circle sana’s wrist, tugging her to the small table at the corner.

sana cannot help the watery giggle that bursts out of her. “so you _were_ expecting me to turn up after all.”

jeongyeon doesn’t say anything, just pushes the warm bun into sana’s hands. still, the way her cheeks are dusted pink makes sana’s heart overflow. she gives in to the impulse and leans over. kisses jeongyeon’s cheek. lingers long enough to catch the petals of a smile unfurling. 

sana takes her time to enjoy the sweetened bun. jeongyeon sits with her and watches, just like every other time. sana tries not to think of how much she would miss this. sitting here with jeongyeon like this, as stars fill the sky outside the window.

“you need to go,” jeongyeon quietly tells her when sana is done. her eyes are liquid now, tinged with a sadness sana wishes she can take away. 

“i wish that - “ the words catch in sana’s throat. stays trapped in the weeds of an inevitable parting.

jeongyeon intertwines their fingers. then presses a kiss to the back of sana’s hand before resting her cheek against it. as though trying to melt into sana’s touch. just for a while. 

sana’s vision blurs. she blinks away the tears and there’s jeongyeon with a fragile smile. an ornate hairpin cradled in her outstretched palm. a silver crane, suspended in flight. 

“it was my mother’s,” jeongyeon reaches up and tucks the hairpin into sana’s hair. holds sana’s gaze with a fierce intensity. “one day, you will be the most beautiful geisha in all of japan. everyone will know your name."

 _and when i do, i will never be able to be with you like this again_ , sana thinks. holds on to the thought for the briefest of seconds before she lets go. 

lets it all go. 

(one day, sana becomes the most beautiful geisha in all of japan. known for her beauty, for her grace. 

and for the ornate silver crane that remains faithful in her hair.)

**osaka. 1945.**

it's almost four months after. almost a hundred and twenty days after her country's leaders surrendered, after jeongyeon’s family was forced back across the east sea. sana has spent every one of those days tracing remnants of lost love. echoes jeongyeon left behind in spaces tied with frozen footnotes of memory. 

this morning, like always, sana waits for the postman. she wills her heart to hope for nothing. if only to not shatter all over again.

this morning, unlike always, her heart remains miraculously whole. with an envelope postmarked seoul. a paper bridge between distance and longing, between loss and treasured memories. 

it’s hours later before she manages to slip away. looks her mother in the eye and lies through her teeth about having dinner with sachiko, the neighbour’s daughter. the lie leaves a bitter aftertaste but when she settles with her back against their tree stump, sana feels only a tempered peace. 

the setting sun burns the sky a beautiful amber that’s in harmony with the rusted leaves on the trees. everything around her is still; a symphony quieting down in tune with the end of another day. 

in the last of the autumn sunlight, sana unfolds jeongyeon's letter with trembling fingers. 

_to sana who always fights with me for the rights to lean against our tree stump,_

_i bet a tiny part of you is happy that i’m not there now. congratulations, love, you finally have the tree stump all to yourself. i know you’re rolling your eyes and trying not to cry at the same time as you read. but…promise me you’ll hold on to that happiness no matter how tiny? we said we’d try to remember the good memories, right? and the tree stump is where we had the best times together._

_i think about them often, all those afternoons with you. i miss you so much. every day._

_my sana, who has been by my side for a long time the last few years, i can never find the words to say everything i want to say to you... but you know my heart, right?_

_thank you for being friends with me when everyone else shunned me, the girl whose blood is korean, not japanese. thank you for loving me, even if it means you suffered the same fate too. thank you for the most precious, most beautiful memories._

_i have a lot that i’m sorry for too…i’m sorry i couldn’t give you anything but this letter. i’m sorry that we only had such numbered days. i’m sorry._

_i promise i’ll come and find you again, one day. when the flowers of our spring day blooms again. if not in this life, in the next one._

_i love you. even if you’re at the end of the world, you’re my person, someone i could never forget._

_to sana who loves perfume, perilla leaves more than shiso, and pretty flowers but is allergic to pollen._

_from jeongyeon, who loves you just as you are. always._

sana carefully folds the letter again, pressing down on the same creases jeongyeon’s fingers lingered on once. her heart is a well of sadness but sana keeps her promise and doesn’t cry.

she picks up the envelope next to her and something falls out. there is barely any sunlight now but it’s enough for sana’s breath to catch when she recognises it.

her fingers are trembling again when she picks up the small red card. its familiar weight carries an ocean of memories; afternoons full of too much laughter and teasing in between rounds of go-stop. 

sana traces the white crane on the hwatu card; knows jeongyeon’s deck is now incomplete without it. there’s a messy scribble on the back. _don’t lose this. i’m going to win next time._

the tears fall before she can stop them and sana finally lets herself cry. because jeongyeon is a sore loser and is promising a rematch when they meet again. because jeongyeon hates losing her belongings yet has an incomplete deck because she trusts sana to keep her card safe.

(sana keeps jeongyeon's crane card safe for months that turn into years.

but jeongyeon never returns to claim it. and never writes to her again.)

**seoul. 1968.**

nine hundred and ninety five, jeongyeon silently counts in her head. just five more to go and she can have her wish granted. carefully, she puts the tiny flightless bird into the jar on the table. it’s full of mishappen origami cranes but jeongyeon doesn’t care. doesn’t have the luxury of time to care. not when every beep on the heart monitor echoes like the dying notes of a song about to reach its silent end.

jeongyeon takes in a steadying breath then reaches for another piece of paper. it’s a soft, sunshine yellow. like the smile on sana’s face the first time they met in the hospital cafeteria. many months and surgeries ago.

( “yoo jeongyeon, leg,” jeongyeon says as a self-introduction, gesturing to the cast on her left calf. “a horse kicked me.”

“minatozaki sana, heart,” sana tugs on the collar of her hospital gown. lets jeongyeon see the scar that begins just beneath her clavicle. “nothing kicked me. my heart is just wired wrongly.”

sana giggles when jeongyeon just stares, willing her brain to think of something to say. 

“i’m - uhh - i hope they can rewire it?” jeongyeon offers awkwardly. she’s always been terrible at figuring out the right things to say. always comforts with hugs instead but sana is a literal _stranger_ she just met and -

sana’s giggles melt away to rest in her eyes instead; a spark of joy that still lights up the room just the same. 

she offers jeongyeon a smile that feels like the warmth of flowers blossoming on a clear spring day. “i hope so too.” )

sometimes, when sleep is impossible, jeongyeon revisits that moment. wonders at the symbolism, at how she was foolish enough to miss it. flowers always bloom then wither and fade away.

the sana on the bed now looks nothing like that. her skin is a shade of pale so grey it’s lifeless. like as though every bit of sunlight in her had been drained away. jeongyeon takes a minute to watch the rise and fall of sana’s chest. the heart monitor echoes. and jeongyeon wonders. how many more beats does this heart have to hold? 

in jeongyeon’s perfect memories, sana turns to look at her across the days that have now come in between their past and the present. she’s laughing, bright and iridescent. brimming with all the light that makes up jeongyeon’s entire world.

“i’m the one getting a new heart,” sana chuckles - chuckled - “why are you the one who’s more emotional?”

“because,” jeongyeon huffed out a breath and hated how it left her feeling hollow. hated the fear lodged like a lump in her throat. hated how everything she wanted to say remained stuck somewhere in her chest. 

“it’ll be okay,” sana said, fingers gently brushing away jeongyeon’s tears. 

“you don’t know that,” jeongyeon pointed out weakly. she allowed sana to tug on her hand, to pull her in. 

“you don’t know that,” jeongyeon repeated, her forehead pressed against sana’s clavicle, above her heart. “anything can go wrong.”

sana hummed a little. then she shifted, enough to tilt jeongyeon’s face up and kiss her softly. “you worry too much. i’ll be okay. i gave you my heart for safekeeping remember? this new one is just muscle. i’ll be out of the hospital, in no time, you’ll see."

she had said it matter-of-factly, and jeongyeon had just stared at sana, wishing she had even an ounce of sana’s conviction. sana, who has lived her whole life knowing her days are numbered. yet, unafraid to be the anchor that held jeongyeon back from unravelling completely. 

the memory fades, slipping into place in the sands of their past. jeongyeon breathes and begins folding the paper in her hands. nothing else to be done but wait.

 _anytime now, sana_ , jeongyeon thinks over the staccato rhythm of sana’s heartbeat echoing. 

then she wonders again; how many more beats does this heart have to hold? 

(jeongyeon leaves the jar behind, leaving it beside the urn with sana’s ashes. 

a jar with exactly one thousand cranes. and jeongyeon’s wish, now as impossible as _anytime now_.)

**seoul. 2014.**

jeongyeon sighs as she makes her way to their practice room. she doesn’t see the point when their debut has been pushed back. again. 

it’s been years now of delays and waiting and never-ending trainings. jeongyeon is _tired_. would have walked away from it all if not for nayeon and jisoo. 

the sun is barely up, which is why jeongyeon is rudely surprised when she pushes the door open. there’s a girl staring back at her, eyes wide. 

jeongyeon vaguely recognises her as one of the japanese trainees. sana, she thinks. recalls someone mentioning a replacement for cecilia from one of the other trainee groups.

they fumble through awkward reintroductions; sana tripping over stilted korean syllables.

for some reason, jeongyeon’s heart is beating a little too fast. or maybe it’s the world that has slowed down. there’s something familiar about the way sana is looking at her; with a small smile unfurling on her face like petals of a flower slowly coming into bloom. 

_that’s a beautiful shirt_ , jeongyeon wants to say. there’s a crane suspended in mid-flight over sana's heart. and jeongyeon has always found cranes and the good fortune they bring, a kind of otherworldly beauty.

“good morning,” jeongyeon blurts out instead. in awkward japanese, because it’s one of the few phrases she knows from watching too much anime. and because the soft light of a new day is catching on the locks of sana’s hair, cascading over her cheeks. 

sana is illuminated, and she’s beaming at jeongyeon now. bright and iridescent. brimming with light, and a lifetime of possibilities. 

**Author's Note:**

> @skyclectic on twitter and https://curiouscat.me/skyclectic on cc 
> 
> so, come drop by to say hi or share your thoughts or ask me anything, really. <3


End file.
